The Cage is Full, The Day is New
by Ihdreniel
Summary: As the zombie apocalypse quickly overruns the world around them, the women of Litchfield must rely on each other to survive.
1. Not Swine Flu

_"— that at this time, no information about the cause of the virus has been released to the media. Just a few minutes ago, a national state of emergency was officially declared, and residents all over the country are being told to remain in their homes or places of business until they are evacuated. Those who are outdoors or in their cars are to—"_

"Are you guys _seeing_ this?" Luschek asked, looking around the CO break room for confirmation.

"Seeing what?" Bell didn't look up from her sandwich.

"The CNN thing. They're talking about some kind of outbreak."

"Oh. Swine flu again?"

"I wouldn't be talking about it if it was swine flu, man; come on. Just listen to this." He pulled himself up out of his chair to grab the remote, upping the volume just as the screen switched to a shot of a crowded, chaotic city block. " _Jesus_ , they're rioting in the streets!" That turned a few more heads.

 _"This is the scene outside CNN Center here in Atlanta this morning, as panicking civilians take to the streets. For those of you are who are just tuning in—"_

"That's not swine flu," O'Neill said slowly, coming up behind Luschek. "Seriously guys, come and look."

One by one, the small group of COs broke away from whatever they'd been doing before and gathered around the TV. Not a minute later, the room's wall speaker crackled to life.

 _"All correctional officers report to meeting room three. Repeat, all correctional officers report to meeting room three."_

Dazed, the COs looked over at the speaker, then back at the TV.

"I don't know, this looks— I think we should keep watching this," said O'Neill, his brow furrowing. "If we don't go, do you think Caputo will—"

"For God's sake, O'Neill, the meeting's about this," Bell snapped. "You heard it, it's nationwide."

Just then, the door to the break room swung open and Bennett stuck his head in.

"Guys? Caputo said pull the plug on the inmates' TV."

* * *

"Sharks."

Taystee snorted, shooting Black Cindy an incredulous look. "Girl, have you _seen_ the suckers on a fully-grown octopus? They latch onto something, and they never letting go. They could pull a shark apart easy."

"Well, wait, what kinda sharks we talking here? 'Cause you know there's them itty- _bitty_ ones, but then there's—"

"Sorry guys, no TV time today." A CO strode past them into the rec room, unplugging it from the wall.

"But we were gonna watch _Wild Kingdom_!" Taystee protested.

"It's not up to me," the CO said firmly, wrapping the cord around the TV stand. "Boss's orders. Go play cards."

" _Shit_." Taystee shook her head disgustedly, watching the CO leave, then plopped down into a chair. Cindy followed suit.

"Yo, you hear Caputo calling all the guards down for a meeting? Maybe we in trouble."

"Whatever it is," Taystee said, "It'd better be good."


	2. We Still Have a Job to Do

"So as you can see," said Caputo, leaning forward over the lectern, "It is _absolutely imperative_ that we all remain calm and keep order."

The room was dead silent. A sea of shellshocked faces looked back at him.

"I know you're gonna want to call your families. We'll be doing that in shifts. After I'm done with you guys I still have to talk to the rest of the staff— infirmary's next— so you're gonna keep quiet about this in the halls. There's procedure to follow. We still have a job to do." A couple people nodded. The rest just stared. One of the newest COs— a young one, only his second month on the job— muffled a sob, and the woman sitting next to him put an arm around his shoulders.

"The warden has ordered the prison be put on full lockdown. No one enters or leaves this building until the military shows up to evacuate us. I want two guards at every door to the outside. I want all inmate radios and listening devices confiscated. I want the public phones shut off. I don't want any of you guys listening to the media, making calls, or using the internet unless you're in a staff-only area, behind a _closed, locked_ door. We are _not_ telling the prisoners about this yet. Is that clear? As far as they're concerned, this is a normal day."

"Sir." Another young CO put her hand up. "What do we tell them about the radios and the phones? They're going to—"

"We don't tell them anything," Caputo interrupted. "We tell them this is a federal prison, not a country club, and they'll get them back when they get them back. Our job is to protect these women, not to be their friends, and right now we need to avoid a full-scale panic. _Keep them in the dark._ Is that understood?"

There weren't any protests, and if Caputo hadn't been at the center of attention right then, he would have let out a long sigh of relief. This was unbelievable. All his excitement and eagerness over his promotion had evaporated the moment the warden had called with the news. It was all he could do to keep his voice from shaking as much as his hands— shoved into his pockets and hidden from view— were. If the COs had rioted, he doubted he would have been able to stop them.

"Good." He clapped his hands, straightening up. "Halloran, you disconnect the public phones. Bennett, go around and collect the radios. Thomas, Reilly, Bell, Franklin, Gomez, Ricci— come up here for your door assignments. The rest of you, carry on as usual. I'll call people down when it's their turn to call home. We're gonna get through this, everybody." He wondered if he should try for a reassuring smile— but he wasn't sure if he could pull it off, and not landing it would be more unnerving than not trying at all. Instead he kept his face serious and professional, and stepped away from the lectern, signaling to everyone that they could go. It was a moment or two before anybody moved. Then somebody stood, and one by one the rest did too.

"Hey." Bennett jumped when Bell touched his arm.

"I— yeah?"

"You okay?" There wasn't a single person in the room who didn't look shocked, afraid, or both, but Bennett looked worse than most. Bell had been sitting next to him, and she'd noticed him tense up when Caputo had started telling them how to handle the situation with the inmates.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine; don't worry, I'm fine. But listen, I gotta go. You heard him, I have to— you know. The radios."

Bell nodded and let go of his arm. He gave her a returning nod over his shoulder, then hurried out of the meeting room, turning left down the hall and making a beeline for C-Dorm.


	3. Don't Scare the Pregnant Girl

_Author's note: Sorry about the short chapters! I know most people don't prefer them, but they're more manageable for me. This story is up to chapter 11 over on Archive of Our Own, but a reviewer requested I post it over here as well, so my apologies for the formatting issues! I'm still trying to figure out how to get my section breaks to transfer over. When I'm not insanely busy, I try to do a new chapter every couple of days, or every week at most; when I am busy, it's more like every couple of months._

* * *

"It's another hurricane. That's gotta be it, _estoy segura_."

"So it's gotta be a bad one, right? They turned off the TV because there's news coverage and they don't want us to see."

 _"Ay!"_ Gloria rounded on them, giving Maritza a light slap upside the head and fixing Flaca with a steely look. "Don't scare the pregnant girl."

"Sorry, Daya," Flaca said absently, sitting up on her elbows. "I don't think it's raining."

" _Sí_ , not yet, but they report on these things early, you know." Maritza shrugged, looking around at the others gathered in Gloria's bunk. "I'm not trying to scare her. But we wanna prepare her, because of last time. If it—" The clatter of footsteps cut her off, and they all looked up to see Officer Bennett rushing down the aisle towards them.

"Hey guys, is Daya h— oh, thank God." Relief spread across his face when he spotted her reclining on Gloria's bed. "Can we have a second?" Maritza gave everyone a significant look (then immediately had to dodge Gloria's hand again) as they stood and filed out.

"He's gonna tell her about the hurricane," Flaca whispered urgently the second they were out of earshot. Gloria rolled her eyes.

"He's gonna talk to her about the _baby_ the way he always does, so _cállate la boca_ and _ven conmigo_ ; let them do their thing."

* * *

"So… wait." Tiffany leaned further over the sink, peering into the dirty mirror. "Do I gotta keep cutting it? Keep it short? 'Cause you know it's just gonna keep growing back; it's already almost longer than my ears."

Boo considered the question, trying to decide which answer would bring the most amusement. "… Eh. I'll tell you what. Since you've been doing so well with the initiation, we're gonna let you grow it out. If you can remain true to the movement, you won't have to worry too much about looking the part."

"Okay." Tiffany tugged a strand of her hair down, as if she could pull it longer right now. She 'd never had hair this short in her life— and while she was getting used to it, sometimes it still took her a moment to recognize herself when she saw her reflection in passing. "But how do I remain true?"

Boo walked over to stand next to her at the mirror, copying the tugging gesture with a strand of her own hair and making Tiffany grin. "You say your prayers every night before bed, right?"

"Of course."

"Before you do that, you're going to have to recite the Dyke Pledge of Allegiance. Don't worry— it's short, and easy to memorize. I'll jot it down and get it to you by the end of the day." Once she wrote it.

Tiffany nodded seriously. "That don't sound so—" She was cut off by the blaring of the alarm. Both women hit the floor.

 _"Again?"_ Tiffany shook her head incredulously. "We just had one of these a few weeks ago for that black lady."

 _"All inmates return to your bunks for a count immediately."_

"Yup," said Boo, hauling herself off the ground and offering Tiffany a hand up. "One of us makes it out and gets hit by a van, and suddenly everybody wants a piece of the action. Come on. I'll teach you the Dyke Pledge some other day."


	4. Y Será Terrible

_Don't scare the pregnant girl._ But Daya was scared. John hadn't told her everything— he'd blurted out disjointed details in spurts, continually looking around to make sure that no one, guard or inmate, was close enough to listen in. It wasn't his words that had scared her so much as his body language— his tense, worried face, and the nervous jiggle in his good leg. The way he'd squeezed her hand just a little too hard before he'd had to run off to B-Dorm.

Here was what Daya knew: something bad was happening. It was on the news. There was some sort of disease spreading, and it was bad enough that the government was going to evacuate the prison. Inmates weren't supposed to know. John could get in a lot of trouble for telling her. She couldn't tell anyone else.

But how could she _not_ tell anyone else?

She'd been angry; she hadn't been able to help it. "You tell me this, and then you say I can't tell my friends? My family?" Her voice had been an angry whisper, but it had still been too loud for John's taste; he'd frantically gestured for her to keep it down. He was just trying to protect her, he'd said. Her and the baby.

Now, as she walked back to Gloria's cube, she was in a daze. The decision of whether to tell or not to tell was made for her the moment the others saw her, because fear and confusion was written all over her face.

"See? You see her?" Maritza said, looking around at the others for confirmation. She and Flaca had been gathering up their things to go back to their bunks for the count. "I told you it was bad news."

Daya sank back down onto Gloria's bed. "Yeah. But it's no hurricane."

* * *

Lockdown or no lockdown, the news quickly spread throughout Spanish Harlem, whispered to bunkmates and passed in notes over wall partitions. Daya only told her closest friends, but those close friends had other close friends they wanted to tell, and suddenly all of C-Dorm was abuzz with talk about it. It was swine flu. No, it was mad cow disease, making a comeback. No, it was something completely new and different, and nobody knew how to deal with it; that's why everyone was so worried.

Later, no one would be able to agree on who first floated the idea that maybe this evacuation rumor wasn't meant to save everyone. Common consensus was that it was Maritza's fault, but she insisted that she hadn't come up with it— she just thought it made sense.

"I mean, think about it, right?" she said, addressing both her bunkmate and the girls in the cube next to her. "They're not gonna take us all out of here for some disease. You ever hear of quarantine? No, they're gonna save all the guards and put the rest of us in max so we can't catch anything, _y será terrible_. If it's bad it could take months. They're just not telling us because they don't want us to riot."

Bell, standing at the door station she'd been assigned to, heard the arguing and commotion from all the way down the hall. "For fuck's sake," she muttered. The CO bubble in there had to be empty— everyone was guarding the exits, not the prisoners. This would have to be on her.

"Ladies! Quiet down in h—" The moment she pulled open the door to the dorm, she knew something was wrong. The room suddenly went dead silent. Thirty anxious, confused faces stared back at her.

"… Oh, shit."

* * *

"What do you mean, _they know_?" Caputo paced the length of the room, agitated. "Who's been running their mouth?"

"Bell said it's just C-Dorm," Bennett said woodenly, desperately hoping that his face didn't give him away. "She wanted me to let you know when I brought the radios."

"Well, this is just fucking peachy. We have a disease epidemic, we're waiting for evacuation orders, and there's some loudmouth running around and gossiping with the inmates." Bennett stared at the floor.

"No bathroom breaks. No leaving their bunks for any reason, _especially_ to leave their dorms. They can piss on the floor if they have to, because I don't want this spreading. Go tell everyone that any CO panicking or getting chatty will be removed from contact with the inmates immediately. If they're freaking people out, we can't do this safely."

"Yessir," Bennett mumbled. "Should I…"

"Yeah, go do that now." Once Bennett was gone, Caputo dropped himself into his desk chair, covering his face with his hands. The good news was that lockdown had already been initiated by the time the C-Dorm women found out— they wouldn't be able to spread the news in the halls, or the kitchen, or the bathrooms. But they were less than an hour into this, and there had already been at least one screw-up. He didn't relish having to tell the warden.

Caputo's desk faced his office door; sitting at it the way he was now, his back was to the window. When his eyes were open, he could sometimes see movement outside out of the corner of his eye. Now, though, with his eyes closed and his head down, he couldn't see anything. He completely missed the slow-moving, shambling figure as it passed by, close enough to briefly cast a shadow on the room before it moved on.


	5. A Pretty Stupid Bird

CO Ricci, new to the job and fucking terrified, comforted himself by remembering that he'd been given one of the easier assignments. He didn't have to patrol the halls (his legs were shaking too much to walk reliably), or monitor the dorms (half the inmates still intimidated him), or do anything _really_ important. He just had to stand here and guard this door. Soon, he'd be called down to the boss's office for his phone call. He'd talk to his parents, and they'd laugh at him for being silly. _Always such a worrywart, ever since you were a kid,_ Mom would say. _You know they always blow things out of proportion on the news_. Then Dad would point out that he was healthy as a horse, even at sixty— he'd never been sick a day in his life, and he wasn't about to change that now.

Things would be fine.

About half an hour into his shift, he was startled out of his own head by a sudden knock on the door. It wasn't a regular knock. It was more like a bang, followed by a couple scraping sounds. Ricci didn't know what to do. Should he answer it? Caputo had said nobody was allowed in or out of the building, but honestly, this was a _prison_ — they were way more worried about out than in. This was probably just some guard who'd been taking a smoke break and forgotten his keys behind him.

"Uh… identify yourself," Ricci said, trying to sound authoritative. There was no answer.

 _Probably a bird,_ he told himself. Birds flew into windows sometimes; did they ever fly into doors? It must have been a pretty _stupid_ bird.

BANG.

Ricci yelled in surprise, jumping back from the door and looking around wildly for someone— anyone— who could tell him what to do in this situation. He'd been trained for emergencies— fires, hurricanes, even breakouts. He'd never been trained for this.

"Identify yourself!" he said, louder, forcing himself to take a couple steps back towards the door. This time, he got a low, pained moan in response.

Ricci had been a Boy Scout as a child. He'd worked as a lifeguard in high school, and as an EMT in college. There were a lot of things he could do. He could perform CPR. He could apply a tourniquet. He could stabilize someone with a neck or back injury. One thing he could not do was ignore someone who was hurt. He threw open the door.

He screamed. No one heard.

* * *

Luschek rounded the corner, stopped dead, and clicked on his radio. "Guys, whichever fuck-up was guarding the door by A-Dorm abandoned post and left the door open. Dibs on not being the unlucky sap who tells Caputo."

Someone was going to get fired over this. He was calling it now.

* * *

He wore a black North Face jacket and a bright orange skullcap. He'd probably been a hiker, once. Now he was something different.

A-Dorm didn't hear him coming any more than they'd heard Ricci's screams. In theory, lockdowns were supposed to be orderly and quiet, but that rarely held up in practice— especially when the inmates weren't actively being guarded. Notes and shouts passed freely from cube to cube. A couple of the bolder women left their bunks entirely, wandering into the aisle or popping by to see friends. When the door swung open, nobody noticed it at first— until someone screamed.

After that, things happened very quickly. Instinct took over. Most people ran. A couple dove under beds or desks, cowering until a friend or passing stranger hauled them out. Then there were those who were sure there was a rational explanation - a CO in a really, really good costume, having a bit of fun. Those theories were quickly dispelled the second the zombie lumbered up to a passing woman and grabbed her by the hair, sinking its teeth into her throat and _ripping_.

"Get out! Get _out_!" Red ducked into one of the cubes closest to the door, reaching under a bed and pulling Brook out by the leg. She yanked her to her feet, shoving her in front of her. "Go; run!"

In less than a minute, A-Dorm was deserted, its residents scattered throughout the wing. Only the zombie - and its meal - remained.


	6. Just Pretend Like You're in a Movie

"Listen."

Nobody listened. B-Dorm wasn't any quieter than A-Dorm had been, and Poussey's voice was completely drowned out. She strained to hear over the din. She was _sure_ she had heard a scream— a real one, and one not coming from this room. She stood and stepped out into the aisle. There it was again— a little louder this time. Closer.

"Yo, listen _up!_ I think I just heard somebody—"

"Inmate!" Maxwell threw open the door, sticking her head into the room. "Back in your bunk. The rest of you, pipe down."

"I heard somebody screaming."

"I heard a bunch of somebodies screaming in _here_ , and you're out of bounds, Washington. I'm not going to tell you again. Are you looking for a shot?" Maxwell reached for her pocket. Poussey retreated.

"Man, whatever." She slouched back to her cube, warily eyeing the door over her shoulder. She knew what she'd heard.

As it happened, so did Maxwell. She left the dorm and shut the door firmly behind her, then immediately hopped on her radio.

"Whatever's going down in A-Dorm, get it together quick. We can hear it from all the way over here."

* * *

"In here!" Nicky dragged Morello down the hallway, trying doors as she went. Most of them were locked. On the fifth door, they got lucky. It was a tiny supply closet, barely big enough for two. A single bare bulb with a pull-chain hung from the ceiling. Nicky hesitated, then turned it on. Were zombies attracted to light? Was it even chasing them, or was it still... She shuddered. She hadn't known Marcia well at all, but she wasn't sure if she'd ever get the image of her being _eaten_ out of her head.

As terrified as Nicky felt, Morello looked about ten times worse. Her cheeks were red and tear-streaked, and she wasn't even trying to muffle her loud, panicked sobs.

"That was a _fucking zombie_ in there. A zombie!"

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey." Nicky's face was white and her hands were shaking hard, but she grabbed Morello's shoulders as tightly as she could and hung on. "It's gonna be okay. Just pretend like you're in a movie, huh? You like that, right?"

Morello sniffed, shaking her head. "Not like this."

* * *

"Lord, I pray for You to protect me and _blind_ this monster to me, keep it from coming in here— don't let it find me. Don't let it find me." Tiffany, lucky enough to get herself into the only bathroom stall with a door, locked herself in and sat down on the toilet. She pulled her feet up off the ground, wrapping her arms around her legs.

"I know You gotta let bad things happen to Your believers sometimes," she whispered into her knees. "And I know I have done wrong. I'm a baby killer. I lied about being a killer in Your name. I'm wicked. But if You save me—" There was the sound of running footsteps outside. She froze, then exhaled with relief when they passed by without coming into the bathroom.

"I wanna be let into heaven someday. I do. But please. _Please_." She let out a hiccupy sob. "Don't let me get eaten today."

* * *

"Ricci, respond. That's an order, Ricci; pick up _now_." No response. Caputo shook his head tersely, handing Luschek back his radio. Ricci was new, and young. He'd been crying during the initial briefing. The idiot had probably gotten scared and ran.

 _None of the outdoor guards have seen him_ , a little voice in the back of his head reminded him. _His car's still in the parking lot. He didn't try to get out through the front gates. He's still on the grounds somewhere._

Time to change tactics.

"Find him," he told Luschek. "Keep doing what you're doing. Don't change positions or deviate from patrol. But you tell everybody that if they see him, they tell me right away. Don't fuck this up."

Luschek gave Caputo a sloppy mock-salute. "You got it, boss."

He was barely out the door when his radio beeped. _"Are you still with Caputo?"_ Bell's voice sounded weird— detached and distant.

"Just left."

 _"Go back in there. Tell him— tell him we found Ricci. Tell him he has to come down to the C-Dorm bathroom, right now."_


	7. Do Not Panic

They never made it to Ricci. The panicked mob from A-Dorm swept through the halls, and from there everything just _grew_. There was no more way to hide that something was very wrong, even if most people had no idea what it was.

B-Dorm emptied out next— Maxwell had no way of holding them back on her own. This was a job for a riot team, not a single guard equipped with only pepper spray and a baton. All she could do was duck to the side to avoid being trampled and shout desperately into her radio.

"B-Dorm is _out_ — B-Dorm has breached the lockdown, and I do _not_ have control! What the _hell_ is going on out there?"

 _"All inmates return to their bunks immediately. Do not panic. All inmates return to their bunks immediately. Do not panic. All—"_

Maxwell shook her head, wishing she could tell Caputo that that was a lost cause. There was no way it was going to work— they were far beyond intercom announcement loops now. She hurried out into the hallway, and nearly collided with a white-faced Bennett.

He didn't stop to chat. He brushed Maxwell aside without even acknowledging her, rushing on through the crowd of panicked B-Dormers. There was only one thing on his mind right now.

By the time Bennett reached C-Dorm, it was almost entirely empty. There were a few stragglers— people who were too afraid to go and check out the halls, and the friends who wanted to stick with them. He saw Ramos and Mendoza. If Daya wasn't with them…

"John?" Daya sat up, her head popping over the wall divider. Bennett's heart kept.

"We have to go." No lead-in; no preamble. There was no time to break this to her gently now. "We need to go _right now_ , Daya. People have died."

"Who the fuck has died?" Maritza rose quickly to her feet. Gloria did the same, and everybody started talking at once. "Was it the disease?"

"Well, what are you waiting for? Answer her; spit it out."

"We have to go get Flaca."

"We have to go get my _mom_."

"Stop it, all of you!" Bennett snapped. Then he saw the look on Daya's face. "I'm sorry. Okay? I'm— we can't sit around here and talk." He took Daya's arm gently, helping her stand. "Let me get you out of here."

Something about the way he said _out of here_ alarmed Gloria. "You mean out of the prison. Don't you?"

Bennett's silence was confirmation enough for all of them. Daya pulled her arm away, sitting back down. "You need to tell us everything."

This time, he didn't hesitate.

"Bell and I found a dead CO by A-Dorm. There's someone in the prison attacking people; the other inmates are saying someone in A-Dorm died, too." Daya's hands flew up to cover her mouth, and Bennett took hold of her wrists. "Let me get you out of here. Right now."

Just then, Aleida burst into the room, a teary-eyed Flaca at her heels.

"There's some kind of cannibal serial killer in the prison— the stupid-ass white girls think it's a zombie." She stormed up to Bennett. "You gonna do right by my daughter and get her and her family out of here?"

"I can't take all of you!" Bennett threw up his hands in exasperation. Aleida scoffed.

"There's nobody paying attention; you can do whatever you want, _pendejo_. Let's go."

* * *

The yard was a natural place to run to. The outdoors felt safer; less penned-in. One or two people ducking outside quickly became an avalanche, and before long, half the prison was milling around nervously on the grass. All eyes were on the building they had just come out of— nobody wanted to turn their back on it.

"He can't really have been a zombie," Piper repeated for the umpteenth time— trying to reassure anyone who would listen. Trying to reassure Brook, who was standing next to her. Trying to reassure herself. "Did you ever hear about those people who watch too many Dracula movies and then start trying to drink people's blood? That's what that was. He's mentally ill. He's a very, very sick man, and what he did to Marcia was horrible. But he isn't a zombie."

Weak-kneed and shaking, Brook reached out and clasped Piper's arm, steadying herself.

"You wouldn't say that," she said, "if you'd seen its eyes."


	8. I'll Be Right Back

"… It's quiet," said Morello suddenly, breaking the prolonged silence that had settled over the closet. "Isn't it? It's too quiet. Where did everybody go?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Nicky asked, staring at the doorknob - terrified that it would begin to turn. "They're probably hiding like we are." Morello let out a strangled sob.

"They're dead. I can just feel it, can't you? That— that _thing_ killed them all, and now—"

"They're not dead, all right? Just… stop it; calm down. It's okay." Nicky rubbed Morello's back, roughly but soothingly. "Don't have a breakdown on me here, Morello; I swear to God."

"Okay. Okay, you're right." She tried to take deep, calming breaths. "Maybe we should get out of here. I'm starting to feel a little claustrophobic, you know what I mean?"

" _Fuck_ no," was Nicky's immediate response. She was pretty sure she didn't ever want to leave this closet, and she sure as hell didn't want Morello to. "Let's just wait a little bit longer. Just a little bit longer, okay?"

Morello sobbed again, but nodded. "If we don't hear footsteps for ten more minutes, then we go."

"Good plan. Ten minutes, starting now."

* * *

Maxwell slammed the door to the kitchen, shutting in herself and a small group of inmates. She hadn't seen the attacker first-hand, but she'd heard enough to know that this was serious— by now, word had spread that Ricci and an A-Dorm inmate had been killed. _Brutalized_. And if the TV reports were right, it would spread. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. This was just insane. There was no protocol for this.

Then she spun around, facing the inmates— B-Dormers and A-Dormers who she'd been able to grab and shove into the room ahead of her. Others had run down the hall, down the stairs, outside… God knew where they were now, or what was happening to them.

"We're still on lockdown," she said slowly, aware of how ridiculous that sounded. "But the prison isn't safe anymore. This is gonna sound nuts, but you all need to go through the back door and out the loading dock. Get out of here."

Nobody moved.

"You heard me!" Maxwell snapped. "A CO _died_. An inmate _died_. This is some kind of brain virus that's making people violent, and it's _in_ here now, so you guys need to get out. If they won't let you through the front gate, climb the fence and go through the woods. Nobody is going to stop you— they're too busy with this."

"You're _really_ telling us to escape," Taystee said, disbelief written across her face. "You a _guard_ , and you're telling us to escape from prison."

"I'm telling you this isn't a prison anymore." Maxwell brushed past her and the others, heading for the loading dock door. She threw it open. "It's a death trap."

* * *

"That way. Down there— go, go, go." Daya went first. Gloria and Aleida, both jockeying for the position of her main helper, went next, followed closely by Maritza, Flaca, and Maria. Bennett hadn't been happy about yet another new addition, but a snap from Gloria ( _"She's family"_ ) and a glare from the rest had stifled any protests he might have made. They were now a group of seven, whether he liked it or not.

"There's a side door down there," Flaca said. "We can—"

"I know." Bennett glanced back, making sure they weren't being followed. "That's where we're going. Come on."

They hurried along in silence, faces drawn and tense. When they neared the door, Bennett sped up, positioning himself at the front of the group. "We're going to go to the main gate. We're going to go to my car. I think they're going to let us out." He didn't really think that. In fact, he was almost sure that this plan would fail— he was pretty confident that he could sneak out one person, but there was no way he could think of to get off-camp with six inmates in tow.

But when they tried it this way and it didn't work, maybe it would be easier for him to convince Daya that she needed to come with him— alone.

"We're gonna walk out just like that?" Maritza said skeptically. Aleida crossed her arms, also looking unimpressed.

"Really? You can't come up with a plan better than that? _Ai_."

"If you want to come up with something, be my guest. But unless you think of something in the next minute—" he was cut off by screams from outside. Flaca and Maria both took several quick steps back from the door; Gloria grabbed them to keep them from bolting.

"… Okay. Uh, stay here," said Bennett. "I'm just… gonna go check that out. Nobody move."

"John, _no_." Daya grabbed him hard, fingernails digging into his arm. "Please don't go out there." She was almost in tears. "You can't leave me."

"Hey," he said softly, bending slightly. "It's gonna be okay. Don't be scared. You… you're gonna be with your mom, and your friends, and then we're going to get out of here. Okay? You'll be fine. Our baby will be fine. Just wait here for a second. This'll take two seconds."

"You promise." Daya didn't break eye contact.

"I promise. I'll be right back." She hesitated— and then nodded, letting him go. He went out the door.


	9. No Service

Someone came into the bathroom. Tiffany froze. This was it, she thought. She was going to die— die and get eaten, just like Marcia. The footsteps came closer. It sounded like they were headed right for her stall. A low whimper escaped her throat.

The footsteps stopped.

Tiffany's breathing quickened, growing shallow and panicky— and loud. It had heard her. It had found her. Now it was just standing out there, listening to her hyperventilate. It was toying with her. It was waiting for the right moment to strike. It was going to rip her neck open. It was—

"Shut up."

It was a woman. _Not the monster_ , she told herself, relief flooding through her body. _An inmate_. An unfamiliar one— she didn't recognize the voice— but still not somebody that was going to hurt her.

"Don't tell me to shut up," Tiffany snapped, voice still shaky. "We could fucking die, and you're being a dick to me."

"I'm helping you," the woman replied. "You were making too much noise. There's a loose wall tile in there. Find it."

Tiffany frowned. "… Uh, this ain't the time to be worrying about bathroom repairs."

"Shut up and find it."

Tiffany did as she was told.

On the other side of the stall door, Blanca Flores could hear the the other woman— it was one of the white girls; she didn't know which one— tapping and scratching at the there was a scraping sound, and a gasp of surprise.

"It's a _phone_."

"I'm coming under the door."

"No, don't—" But Blanca was already on the ground and crawling into the stall on her elbows and knees. The white girl was glaring at her. "We're gonna get _found_ with you in here. I was here first. Get your own place." But this was the only stall with a door, and they both knew it. Neither of them was going to be willing to go anywhere.

Now that she was in with her, standing up, Tiffany recognized her. She was a Spanish girl— the creepy witch-like one with the wild hair and wilder eyes. Of all the people to be trapped in here with… Tiffany continued to glare, but fell silent, scooting back and moving to sit up on the back of the toilet. The woman could probably turn into a monster and nobody would even know the difference.

"You gonna call someone?" Tiffany finally asked, eyeing Blanca as she messed around with the phone. Blanca didn't respond at first. Then she made a frustrated sound and slapped the phone shut, shaking her head hard.

"No service."

* * *

"But what if this is some crazy test shit? Tell us to escape, see what we do, tack some _time_ onto our sentences if we do it…"

"She's right," said Poussey, glancing back at Black Cindy. "They could be fucking with us, man. I say we just hang out here for a little bit."

"Excuse me? Did you not hear her?" Taystee rounded on the other two. "You all can do what you want, but I'm not taking no chances in a place a CO called a _death trap_."

"Hold on. Can we just talk about this for a second?" Ever the peacekeeper, Yoga Jones stepped in between the three women, holding up her hands. "Maxwell is a good woman. She wouldn't try to trick us like that."

"Who says she's in on it?" Cindy shot back. A few of the others in the group nodded. Others weren't so sure.

"I don't know, guys, I think we should listen to the black lady," Angie said. "Uh… that black lady." She pointed at Taystee. "Not the other one. She's right, you heard what the CO said. And I _saw_ what happened in A-Dorm. We were there— right, Yoga?"

"My _name_ is Cindy, bitch. Not _the other one_. And if you want to end up in max—" A flurry of screams suddenly broke out in the distance, stopping the argument.

"Yo, that's coming from the yard!" Poussey exclaimed. "Fuck this, I changed my mind— let's get out."

* * *

Attracted by the large group of women congregating on the grass, the zombie had burst out of one of the now-unguarded doors, sending everyone scattering. Some ran back into the building. Some ran for the fences, planning to climb them. Others just ran, with no particular goal or direction in mind.

 _I need to be calm about this_ , Piper thought. _Panic is how people die_. She grabbed the two people nearest to her— Brook and Janae. "Come on! I'll help you!"

"Get the fuck off me; I don't need your help!" Janae wrenched herself away and took off on her own. Brook, in contrast, clung.

"Oh God, please don't leave me. Piper? Let's stick together; people need to stick together in survival situations. Let's just—"

"I know, Brook." Piper— far more panicked than she was trying to appear— started to haul the girl across the yard and towards the fence. "This way." She spared Janae— who was running off in the opposite direction— a quick glance, but decided to just let her be. She couldn't help anybody who didn't want to be helped.

Janae didn't look back. She never did; not when she was running. She didn't need some lily-white girl to rescue her— she could rescue herself. And that was just what she was going to do, until she heard familiar voices coming from the other side of the building.

"—not gonna just let us walk out!"

"You got a better idea? 'Cause if you think anybody's getting over the fences with _barbed wire_ at the top—"

"Taystee!" Janae yelled. "Black Cindy!" But when she reached the fence, they weren't there. They'd gotten outside, somehow— not outside the main perimeter fence, but outside of the yard. Out of her reach. And they were right— there was no way over this fence, or any of the fences. If she wanted to get out, she'd have to find some way to cut it open… or go back through the prison.

* * *

It was quiet. The screams weren't coming from out here. Though he was worried about the other prisoners and guards who were no doubt being chased and attacked right now, Bennett still breathed a sigh of relief. The infected guy was out back somewhere— by the yard, probably— and wouldn't be in the way of getting Daya out.

Still, he wanted to make extra sure he wasn't wrong. Tensions were high, and the prison was in a panic; the screaming could have been a false flag. Someone could have just _thought_ they were being attacked, and reacted accordingly.

So he stepped away from the building. He'd just look around for a little bit— check around corners, make sure the path really was clear. That sort of thing. It'd take him five minutes.

But five minutes was a long time when you were waiting for the father of your child to return to you. For Daya, it felt more like fifteen or more. Surely he didn't need to be gone for so long, right?

She should check on him. She didn't need to go out— she'd just open the door and look, and make sure he was doing okay. Before anyone could stop her, she pulled away from Gloria and her mom, opening the door and sticking her head out.

"John!"

He turned around to look at her. "Daya, stay insi—"

He wasn't even able to get the full word out before Ricci suddenly appeared from around the corner that he now had his back to. Daya tried to scream out a warning, but it all happened in an instant. Ricci grabbed him by the arm, sinking teeth into flesh. Then he dragged him onto the ground and began to feast.


End file.
